


there's no looking up for heaven

by karnsteins



Category: The Outsiders - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon, Prison, dallas lives and johnny still died, dallas winston vs the industrial prison complex: now with entertainment, our system is so very broken, so prison rodeos are a thing!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:53:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26717809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karnsteins/pseuds/karnsteins
Summary: Ponyboy also knows that if he had asked his brothers to come with him, they would. So would Two-Bit or Steve. This isn't for them though, this isn't the same kind of burden or enjoyment.When he rolls into the grounds, he glances up as always: Oklahoma State Penitentiary. The Big Mac.
Relationships: Ponyboy Curtis & Dallas Winston
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	there's no looking up for heaven

The truck doesn't want to start this morning, and Ponyboy can feel a headache coming on. He swears beneath his breath as he turns the ignition again, not wanting to deal with it being a piece of shit now. 

It finally roars to life, the radio crackling on. Sighing, he puts his foot on the gas, and begins the drive that he's been looking forward to and dreading all at once. It's been two years, one since he'd done it alone, and it still felt daunting to get on the interstate and get himself moving. 

He wishes it were easier to do this. Easier to go down the road here, easier to let himself be okay that he was doing this. 

It's not. The closer he gets, the more his chest constricts, the more that unhappiness and anger mix up with genuine loss, genuine feelings of upset that he has inside of his chest. He thinks often about this place, with how much it stays in his dreams, how much he feels that it's his fault that this even happened. 

He's had counseling. They've all told him otherwise. 

It just never feels that way as the truck rolls through the interstate, as he white knuckles it down there. 

Ponyboy also knows that if he had asked his brothers to come with him, they would. So would Two-Bit or Steve. This isn't for them though, this isn't the same kind of burden or enjoyment. 

When he rolls into the grounds, he glances up as always: Oklahoma State Penitentiary. The Big Mac. 

The truck he parks out near the back, making sure to roll up the windows, grabbing his cigarettes, his lighter, his wallet, and stepping out easy. He'd come earlier than most, for a reason. 

The prison guards don't say much to him when he comes in for the visiting hours, making sure to hold his arms up, keeping his jaw clenched as they move him through to the visitor area. It doesn't take long to spot him, it never does when his hair is still so towheaded, even here. He's never surprised now whenever Ponyboy shows up, and it makes that tension in his chest ease up at the way the smirk forms on his face. 

"Ain't you heard of a haircut, grease?" He slouches down to the table between them, blue eyes looking just as ferocious as ever. 

"Aw, lay off, Dal," Ponyboy smiles back, taking a seat, knowing that they're being watched. It doesn't stop him from leaning over as close as he can, "Ain't like you like haircuts anyway." He flicks his eyes up to the hair Dallas has now, almost longer in prison than it had been outside of it. If it weren't for the uniform on him, Ponyboy could even think that he didn't look much different on the whole. Maybe he'd lost a few pounds from the shitty prison food, but he still looked lean as ever at twenty years old. 

Dallas gives a chuckle, eyes dropping to Ponyboy's hand where the skull ring glints, and back up. "I thought you'd get it cut in college, look like the rest of those assholes." 

Ponyboy makes a scoffing noise himself, "Jesus, no. Lot of the hippie kids have it longer than me, actually. Everyone else," he shrugs, "No one says anything about it. I just look like the same me is all." 

There's a lot they could say in that moment. A lot of questions between them that could be asked, should be asked. About Soda refusing to be drafted. About Darry finally getting promoted, Steve and Evie getting married. Two-Bit finally moving out on his own. About any and everything with college. 

They all stay in, though. They don't matter so much in that moment as it is that Dallas and Ponyboy sit there, together, hands close, with more than that between them. There's so many more heavy things between them, that wants to be unearthed first, that they can't entirely make their way to here. 

Dallas is the one who makes the first move, the one who finally says, "You visiting him, after this?"

Ponyboy nods, throat feeling tight. "Yeah. Always do." 

Dallas relaxes beneath the lights, and some of the bravado comes back on his face. "Next year'll be the last. Then you and I can walk right out that door together." 

"You win this one and they might not want to let you out," Ponyboy jokes, and Dallas smacks his hand from where he is. They both know he rides fair and square, and hell with the bets placed on him. 

Ponyboy wants to say more, do more. He's not a talker, though, and Dallas doesn't seem to want to make him talk, here. Being in his presence for a few minutes more is enough. He wonders if Dallas is cataloguing the differences he sees the way Ponyboy does. If the pendant on his neck seems to fit better now, if he looks as if he's filled out or dropped weight since he's gone to college. If maybe Ponyboy missed a spot of charcoal on him again or if some of the weariness on his face he's had since Johnny died shows up on him the way it shows up on Two-Bit or Darry or Soda or Steve. 

The guard comes over when the time is up. "I'll see you out there," Pony says, voice cracking even though he doesn't want to. There's so much more that fills his head that he wants to say, needs to say, jamming up his throat. Dallas looks too, like there's an edge on the tip of his tongue, like there's something that needs to be said, and neither of them are able to verbalize it as he's pulled away. 

A hole opens up in his chest. Every single time he comes, they never talk about the small stuff, they never make to real small talk that Ponyboy has been able to have with everyone else. There's always a fount of things unsaid, of things they want to unearth but can't. Ever since Dallas had lifted that gun to the cop, ever since he'd been shot in the street, there hadn't been real time alone for them. It had only been short enough for Dallas, tired and still riddled with bullets from the cops, to hand over his things to Ponyboy. Only enough time for him to tell Pony again that he wanted him to toughen up. 

Ponyboy always tries. Always tries to toughen up, to find the words to express the loss of Johnny and Dallas in their own ways. Tries to deal with it, with one friend in the ground and other one in prison and he never can make it work right, can never have everything come out the way he wants to.

Every year he expects something different, and every year it never comes. Every year, they do this dance around each other, every year, he comes to see Dallas ride at the rodeo, alone. 

Every year, he has to sit in the truck and try to pull himself together between visiting hours and the time Dallas rides. He has to take heaving breathes, has to steady himself to try and get himself under control. 

This is the last year. It has to be the last year.

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by the kings of leon video for "beautiful war" and the fact that oklahoma state prison had prisoner rodeos. comments, kudos, come yell at me over @traumapeaks on tumblr. this has potential for a two shot but we'll see!


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